The Quiet of Presence
On what it means to be quiet….
What are these poets trying to get us to look at? Is being quiet necessary in discovering oneself?
Today, take time to listen and just be. Discover what takes place when you stop and truly listen. What happens when you are listening? Can listening hold on, or is listening ever present? What happens to our thoughts when we listen?
What happens when you are truly quiet inside?
Keeping Quiet, by Pablo Neruda
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Listening
By Amy Lowell
’T is you that are the music, not your song.
The song is but a door which, opening wide,
Lets forth the pent-up melody inside,
Your spirit’s harmony, which clear and strong
Sing but of you. Throughout your whole life long
Your songs, your thoughts, your doings, each divide
This perfect beauty; waves within a tide,
Or single notes amid a glorious throng.
The song of earth has many different chords;
Ocean has many moods and many tones
Yet always ocean. In the damp Spring woods
The painted trillium smiles, while crisp pine cones
Autumn alone can ripen. So is this
One music with a thousand cadences.
Rumi
Inside this new love, die.
Your way begins on the other side.
Become the sky.
Take an axe to the prison wall.
Escape.
Walk out like someone suddenly born into color.
Do it now.
You are covered with thick cloud.
Slide out the side. Die,
and be quiet. Quietness is the surest sign
that you have died.
Your old life was a frantic running
from silence.
The speechless full moon
comes out now.
I wonder….
One may say that wholeness, that living undivided, without thought doesn’t exist, and if you haven’t directly experienced this, I would say you are right. And that is the thing, it is not the words, it is not the pointers, it is in surrendering, in deeply listening, and in burning down all walls with the blaze of awareness, where presence is, human laws are no longer needed, and we are truly awake to life. This is where the dreaming (ignorance) ends.
